Devotional Book For Women Novels & Stories

Mom asks out of partial curiosity as she sinks into the couch, her legs crossed on the island table. "She's old, full of wrinkles, and can barely lift a cup, and me?" I give a little twirl, "I am young, succulent, and beautiful. A typical Aphrodite's rebirth and might I add, a goddess in bed." I wink at the last part and she makes a gagging expression. "You need prayers, Adelina," she shakes her head, "In fact, you are a lost cause. A full session of exorcism can't even save you."

I was waking up with sadness, but at the end of the day it could easily turn to anger or fury… “Why are you doing this to me?! If it weren’t for you, I wouldn't hurt so bad! Do you know that nothing angers the woman more than silence?! Are you trying to throw me away now?! Do you know that hell has no fury like a woman scorned?!” I shouted furiously at every corner of my apartment.

It felt like detoxing without the juice. I ordered several books ranging from the ones on boundaries and healing to self-worth. I read for hours until my eyes hurt. From every book I read, I made sure to have several highlighted pages. I scribbled notes in the margins. I wasn't just passing time or doing something I didn’t understand; I was rebuilding something in me that had been caved in. I stopped taking calls from people, Ryan especially. I cooked my meals and danced around in oversized shirts. I played sad songs and happy ones. I didn’t stop myself; I let myself be angry, then grateful, and then tired.

(Godric) From the moment we collided to the unending agony of listening to her narrative, something stirred in my heart. Not the usual resentment I feel towards ladies trying to suck up, coy on purpose. Not even the disgust of seeing the falsity of feminine weakness. She was different. In a way that made me listen quietly, and hold her in my thoughts longer. Then she spoke about devotion. The one thing I never thought a woman could give a man in the absence of his money. Something my mother could not give to my father even with all the money in the world at her feet.

She reached into her clutch and pulled out a small, leather-bound book—cream-colored, the title embossed in soft gold script—The Perfect Wife: Grace in the Eyes of Society. She extended it toward me with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “You should read it,” she said simply. “Memorize the key chapters, practice the rest. It’s a useful guide. All Kingston wives have studied it. Including me.” I didn’t move, just stared at the damn, thick book.

Ace’s gaze grew a little darker. “Based on all the scandals Jasper had in the past, he’s not very loyal. Even if he suddenly cares for a person, how long do you think a leopard who used to be a carnivore can remain as a herbivore?” The woman sat next to Ace. She braced her courage and tugged at his clothes. “I may not be able to make you fall for me, but I've solved your biological needs for so many years, haven't I? Ace, you are also a human being, a normal man… “No, you’re a hundred times better than any other men,” the woman spoke in appreciation.

"But again, I should have understood matters from your point of view. Being heavily pregnant, you try your best to fulfil your duties to me, peanut and your Jobs. And I really appreciate it." "Because of peanut, you have no control over your emotions and I should have understood that. Carrying our child is the best gift you can ever give me and I'll forever be grateful to you." "If you've ever looked sexier or more beautiful, it's right now, You being pregnant with peanut. You're not an ugly whale and I still find you extremely attractive." "You're not Rita and you can never be like her. You're not evil, you're not a freak, you're not heartless, you're not a bitch and neither is any history

"Lost your boyfriend, did you? Well, you're not going to find any sympathy here." I felt a surge of anger, but I knew I had to keep my cool. I couldn't let these women get to me. I had to stay strong, for myself and for my unborn child. But as I looked around at the hardened faces of the women, I couldn't help but wonder if I would ever make it out of this place alive. The scar-faced woman took another step closer to me, her eyes glinting with a menacing light. "You're going to have to learn to fight," she sneered. "Because in here, it's every woman for herself."

Not that I was counting the days, and especially not because I was thinking about him every damn minute. Okay, so what if I was thinking about him? Not only did he save my life, but that man gave me some of the best orgasms with just his fingers. But seriously, who just comes to your room, pleasures you, then disappears into thin air? The Devil, obviously. And I was apparently crazy enough to let him touch me without giving it a single thought. Now, he was nowhere to be found for a week, and I didn’t know what that meant. I stopped in my tracks, getting distracted, when I noticed a bunch of people rushing back and forth, carrying flowers, tablecloths, vases, and all kinds of decorative stuff

The thought made her pulse quicken, like she was holding a secret that wasn’t meant to be found. She hesitated only a moment before sitting cross-legged on the floor and flipping the cover open. Inside, in messy handwriting, was a title scrawled across the first page: “Collected Stories — From Women, For Women.” Chloe blinked. The handwriting was feminine, rushed, and almost secretive. She turned the page and read the introduction, scrawled in looping letters: